Perfectly Normal, Probably.
As we grow into ourselves, the little habits that once felt like quirks start to read like a personal user manual. I sleep with two heating pads and a knee pillow but my feet demand fresh air. I prefer my water at room temperature. I clean in a big friendly loop and I cook for the people I love even when my own taste buds have called it a night. These are not oddities. They are earned comforts. With a few simple tweaks for ease and safety, our rituals become everyday care. Call it what it is. Perfectly normal, probably. And absolutely worth celebrating.
Janell McBride ·
I have some unfortunate news for anyone who still believes they are a completely reasonable person. You probably aren't. Neither am I. At some point, we all develop our own specific ways of doing things. The little things we do just become second nature, and most of the time we don't even think about them. As reasonable as we may believe we are, some of our quirks can probably appear entirely unreasonable to somebody else. You can know someone for years and still miss how they operate until one day you happen to catch them in the act. The other morning, I was watching my wife make coffee when I noticed she puts the creamer in before the coffee. After almost seven years together, I had somehow never seen this. Years later, I'm still picking up basic details. I know how she takes her coffee. I’ve made it for her a hundred times. Yet somehow, I had never noticed this particular part of making it. It made me wonder how many other small things about the people closest to us can go unnoticed simply because we are not looking for them. That got me looking at my own daily routine. I sleep with two heating pads every night for pain relief, my knees propped on a pillow, and a blanket pulled up while my feet stay completely out. Once I have everything where I want it, my wife knows exactly how much room she has left. There is no discussion about it anymore. My wife doesn't question it. She just lets me build my little orthopedic fortress, slides into whatever mattress is left, and calls it a night. I drink water and soda straight at room temperature. I like to think that it's because I am special, but undoubtedly, it's just because I already have enough coldness running through my veins. Cleaning is where my timeline gets messy. I pick up an item to put it away, notice dust on a shelf, and wipe the shelf. Then I notice something that belongs in another room and carry it there. Once I get there, I see something else. Before long, I’m moving through half the house, cleaning what